


Beneath the Surface

by Ultrageekatlarge



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultrageekatlarge/pseuds/Ultrageekatlarge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Especially if that woman happens to be the all powerful Lady of the Lake. And you've just shot her boyfriend with a crossbow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Surface

**Author's Note:**

> Written post-series 3. Also posted on ff.net. I own nothing. Also, this takes place in a post-reveal scenario, where Arthur is aware of Merlin's magic.

Arthur and Merlin were being chased through the woods. Not that this was terribly out of the ordinary, of course, for it seemed that every time they ventured outside of the castle gate’s they were put upon by bandits. Of course, this time it wasn’t bandits that they were being pursued by. This time, they were mercenaries. Some people would argue that there was not a difference – Arthur would tell them to stick that argument where the sun couldn’t shine. Bandits were chaotic, generally unorganized. Bandits tended to get bored after a while spent chasing, and would give up. Mercenaries were the opposite, and would rarely stop until they captured their quarry.

This time, that quarry was Arthur. Merlin was just something of a bonus.

So, Arthur ran with Merlin always just behind him, twisting through trees and over the undergrowth, every now and again glancing back to, one, see if Merlin was still with him and, two, to check if the mercenaries were still following them. Eventually, when Arthur looked over his shoulder, it was to empty woods. He and Merlin slowed to a jog, then a walk.

“Did we lose them?” Merlin asked, words almost lost by panting breaths.

“For now,” Arthur said, and then looked around. They had ended up at a large and clear lake, the surface of which was smooth as glass. Merlin, too, looked around.

“This place,” Arthur said, between gasps, “It seems familiar.”

“Er, yes,” Merlin said, “You’ve been here before.”

“Have I?”

“Yeah, there were fairies and kidnapping and they wanted to sacrifice you…” Merlin trailed off, and waved a hand, “You know what, it’s not that important. Remind me to tell you about it –”

Arthur shushed him, and turned to stare at the trees. “What?” Merlin asked, “Did you hear –”

He cut off with a strangled, gurgling noise. Arthur whirled about to find Merlin, crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest, and stumbling backwards into the lake. Arthur could see the archer lowering his weapon, perched up in a tree. “Merlin!” he shouted, running forward.

But the mercenaries were quick to cut him off. They were pulling Arthur back, trying to bind his hands. Arthur roared, and pulled out his sword. But there were too many against him, and soon Arthur found himself wrestled to the ground, held there. All the while, Merlin was bleeding, hurt, dying and Arthur couldn’t get to him. He’d fallen on his back, lying still in the water. “Let me go!” Arthur bellowed, “Merlin!”

One of the men, apparently the leader, stepped in front of the prince and effectively blocking Merlin from Arthur’s sight. He went on to tell Arthur about their plan, and about how he was going to sell Arthur to the highest bidder and hopefully start a war. Arthur didn’t hear a word of it – he was too busy trying to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of Merlin, struggling so that he could get to Merlin. Every thought was just Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.

Then…

“Oi, you there, get back!” one of the mercenaries yelled, looking towards the lake.

That prompted the leader to turn, and gave Arthur a clear path to being able to see. A woman with long dark hair and dark eyes was standing in the waist deep water, cradling Merlin to her. She was wearing a deep red dress, and staring at Merlin with an expression that could only be described as tender. Arthur couldn’t figure out where she’d come from.

Then she looked up at the men on the shore. Any semblance of tenderness was gone, leaving only blank anger in its wake. “Someone has spilled blood in my lake,” she said, “Someone has spilled Merlin’s blood in my lake.”

Arthur began to ponder the implications of random women in lakes knowing Merlin’s name, but was cut off by the lady in the water speaking again.

“Who did this?” the woman asked. Her voice was low, dangerous, and the air shivered around her words. It made Arthur want to run for cover. Several of the mercenaries did, dropping their hold on Arthur. The water around her feet began to bubble and steam. She spoke through gritted teeth, and turned her gaze on Arthur, “I asked a question.”  
Wordlessly, Arthur pointed up at the tree where the archer was scrambling to get down. Anything to get that furious attention off of him.

“I see,” she said, and then sent Merlin’s body on a wave straight to Arthur. “Keep him out of the way, will you? Things are going to get messy.”

And then hell rained down on the mercenaries. Water and ice flew up from the lake, pinning men to trees. The once placid surface of the water rolled and stretched, and the sky turned black with clouds. Arthur, dragging Merlin with him, took cover beneath a bush. Rain fell, with lightening and wind whipping the world into a frenzy. In the middle of it all, the lady from the lake stood, arms raised and face calm, watching as the mercenaries either fell to her power or fled.

The archer in the tree had taken to clinging to a branch for dear life.

“You,” the lady said, “Will come down here. I have some things I’d like to say to you.”

A bolt of lightening slammed into the archer’s tree and sent him crashing to the ground. The woman approached until she stood in the shallow water, the liquid only covering her feet. She bent down, and stared straight at the archer. She whispered something that Arthur couldn’t make out, but then suddenly the archer yelped, and his entire body rippled.

Then he turned to water, falling to mix with the lake. All of the mercenaries – save for the bodies – were gone, having turned tail and ran. The sky cleared, returning to its happy blue. The water on the lake’s surface calmed instantly and became mirror smooth once more. “It’s alright,” the woman called, looking over at Arthur’s shrubbery, “Could you bring Merlin here, please?”

Arthur did as he was bid, clutching the unconscious Merlin to his chest. He stayed a distance from the lake, though.

“That’s it,” she said in a soothing voice, like what one uses to comfort a child after a nightmare, “Just bring him over to me.”

And Arthur, thinking of the fury that this woman had just summoned, mutely shook his head.

“Do not make me force you,” she said, and a ripple shook the water.

Again, thinking of the power she’d rained down, Arthur this time dragged Merlin over to the water’s edge. She grabbed a hold of the crossbow bolt and yanked it out with one hand, and then immediately pressed her other hand over the wound. Arthur watched on, and though he would deny it later, he was worried to the point of physical illness about his friend.

But when the lady of the lake removed her hand, the only sign that Merlin had ever been hurt was the blood that decorated hi shirt. Arthur blinked, and for the first time in years found himself speechless. “That should do it,” she said, “He has lost a bit of blood, but nothing that a small amount of time won’t fix.”

Arthur nodded wordlessly. She looked at him closely.

“I remember you,” she said, “You’ll keep Merlin out of trouble, won’t you? He takes so much looking after. And tell him to take you to the sword. It’s time.”

Arthur gaped, and then managed a rather squeaky, “What?”

She sighed, “Get Merlin to take you to the sword that’s in the stone. He’ll understand. But the question is, do you?”

“Not really,” Arthur said, relieved to find that his voice had returned to its normal, manly pitch.

“That’s alright. Just make sure he takes you to the sword,” said the lady in the lake, and then her face softened as she glanced at Merlin. Then she sank down beneath the surface of the water again. As soon as the crown of her head disappeared, Merlin sat up, sputtering and spitting, grasping at his chest where the crossbow bolt had been moments before. 

“What? What?” Merlin said, looking around wildly then down at his torso, “What?”

“Morning,” Arthur said, “You have some explaining to do. Why do I need a sword from a stone?”

“What?” Merlin said, and shook his head, “Why am I wet? What happened? Wasn’t I dead?”

“I don’t think you actually died,” Arthur commented idly, “More like…mortally wounded and on the way to dead.”

Merlin twitched again. “Wait. What? We were being chased –”

“There was a woman in the water,” Arthur continued, “She boiled them into submission. Care to comment?

“Oh,” Merlin said, “Um, that was, uh, that was Freya.”

“Freya, as in that Druid girl you won’t talk about?”

“Yes.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, and paused, lost for words, before saying, “She is so far out of your league, it isn’t even funny.”


End file.
